Even at their most anthemic there's a subdued melancholy amongst the
bravado and epic driving melodies. It's deep within their souls. Growing
up in Reykjavik they would watch the stars form beautiful patterns in the
sky and dream of far off climes where the sun always shines on TV and phrases
like "aren't you going to do something with your day" are uttered before
the sun sets and the night draws in. But despite the fact that early nights
are common place in Iceland, if only to while away the twilight hours,
the band still found time to play football with third division team Bardastrandir
and plan their first live show at an art gallery converted from a prison.

It's these contradictions between the sensitive and masculine forces
which make Leaves one of the more interesting propositions in 2002. Creating
vast soundscapes within the constraints of the traditional formats there's
an air of claustrophobia and desperation clouding the whole album. Yet
at the same time the sense of relief of facing death in the face and walking
away the victor. The way "Catch" takes Suede's "Trash", inverts it, displaying
a darker underbelly with the sort of defiance that you display when realizing
that showing your true feeling would simply be letting them win. The title
tracks gospel piano intro before Arnar Gudjonsson's vocals twists and turns
the minor key into a funeral march before turning the negative into a positive
and singing the last waltz at the school disco.

Never being able to escape the dark days that haunt them the mournful
"Suppose" and "Epitaph" have led to live shows, which at times have been
a chore to watch, yet on repeated listens of "Breathe" they display the
sort of emotional depth which Doves displayed on "The Cedar Room". With
an atmosphere which makes dinner parties at Leonard Cohen's look lively
it's going to be one of those albums which is brought out in times of need,
but rather than simply walk on by the Samaritans of rock face the issues
head on and rightfully so.